


One of these mornings ...

by chameleon_soul



Category: Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleon_soul/pseuds/chameleon_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shusei doesn't know how to say goodbye to his Zweilt partner, lover and soulmate ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of these mornings ...

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.

 

** One of these mornings … **

_One of these mornings_

_Won't be very long_

_You will look for me_

_And I'll be gone_

_(_ **"One Of These Mornings" by “Moby”)**

 

They worried about him.  It had been days.  Days in which he wouldn’t leave his partner’s dead body.  Days in which he didn’t eat and hardly slept, the only few moments he did slip into an exhausted dream always rudely ended by a replay of his partner’s final moments.  The sacrifice his friend had made to save him.  To save a life he wished his partner hadn’t saved.

 

The hand in his own one was cold, lifeless, stiff, nothing like before.  Gone was the warmth, the heathy passion, the life that used to seem to flow from hands that never seemed to quite be still.  Gone were the arms that encircled him at night, at hard times.  Gone was the comfort, the home offered when everything became too much for him alone to bear.  Gone was the love he had once known.  Lost and lost forever.  With them having won the battle against the Demon world, the stone holding their souls till it was time for reincarnation had shattered, taken away the only one from him.  Taken away the chance to see him again in another life.  It was truly over now.  He was truly gone now.  Lost to never return to him.

 

His shoulders sagged and his head lowered, hiding himself, trying to mask the sight before him.  The harsh, cruel truth. 

 

God, how was he supposed to go on without him?  How could he ever let him go?  His sun, the centre of his universe around which everything had turned for so long?  He needed him.  He needed him back.  Alive, well, smiling at him, joking, scolding him for not eating, scolding him for locking himself away.  Why?  Why couldn’t God grant him that one wish?  What had he done wrong?  Hadn’t they deserved a second chance?  A chance at happiness?

 

“It hurts,” he muttered to no one in particular.  Not that anyone was there.  Only he, he and his partner, his dead partner, his partner who he could no longer reach, who no longer listened to him. 

 

“Come back.  Come back to me, please,” he whispered, his plea falling on deaf ears, just like before, just like it had done all those thousands times before when he had uttered the words. 

 

“Why?  Why won’t you listen to me anymore?  Why won’t you come back?  Didn’t you promise?  Didn’t you promise to always be there for me?  Find me whenever I called out to you?”

 

The door behind him creaked, a shadow of light falling inside, a cruel invader in this room, in his sanctuary.

 

“Shusei?”

 

He didn’t react.  It wasn’t the right voice.  It wasn’t the voice he longed to hear.  The only voice who had the right to call his name.  This wasn’t the person he needed.  Wanted.

 

A hand got softly placed on his shoulder and there was a noise.  A noise that alerted him that the person who had entered and spoken had crouched down beside him.

 

“Shusei.” A pause, then the necessary courage found by the speaker to continue.  “Shusei, you need to let him go.”

 

He didn’t react.  The person didn’t know what he was saying.  Didn’t know what he was asking.  He couldn’t let Hotsuma go.  Couldn’t tear himself away from his partner cause this time … this time it would be final.  No going back.  No new chance.  Just darkness and emptiness along the line.  And he couldn’t do that.  He couldn’t face that.  He couldn’t, wouldn’t accept that ugly truth.  As long as he didn’t acknowledge the truth, as long as he ignored the others he could stay.  Could stay with Hotsuma.  And they could talk and laugh and bicker.  God, couldn’t they see it?  Couldn’t they see Hotsuma was still here?  Still alive?

 

Another person entered the room.  Conversed with the first.  They were discussing him, discussing the situation but he didn’t listen.  He tuned them out.  It had nothing to do with him.  Nothing to do with them, wasn’t that right, Hotsuma?

 

They crouched back beside him, one on each side.  He knew what they were planning.  Knew it in his gut and his soul screamed out, but no sound came over his lips.  He couldn’t break the silence, the respectful silence that reigned in the room.  He had to hold it together.  For Hotsuma.  For his partner.  If he were upset, Hotsuma would also be.  He couldn’t do that to his partner.  He only wanted Hotsuma to be happy.  Not distressed.  He didn’t want to add to Hotsuma’s suffering.  His partner had already gone through so much.  Hotsuma didn’t need him to add to the pile.

 

But the held in screams resounded in his heart as he was pulled up, away from his partner, his friend’s hand slipping from his own.  And then screams sounded.  Screams that echoed in his heart and in his ears and he wondered, he wondered who was screaming.  Who dared to upset Hotsuma.  Who dared to disrupt his partner’s sleep. 

 

And he wanted to yell out.  Wanted to yell at the person to shut the fuck up and he opened his mouth, ready to scream at the person but his mouth was already open.  And he was already speaking, screaming … He was the one screaming.  The one screaming and madly trying to pull free.  Cursing, scratching, hitting, biting, kicking, anything, anything he could come up with to let his captors release him.  To break free and return to his partner’s side.  He couldn’t leave Hotsuma alone.  He had promised.  Promised to always be there for Hotsuma.  He couldn’t break that promise.  He couldn’t leave him alone.  In the darkness.  Lost.  Lost with no one to guide him home.  With no one to love him, comfort him.  No, Hotsuma needed him.  Why couldn’t they see that?  Why couldn’t they understand that?

 

But the distance widened, his partner’s body became smaller and then there was the door.  The hard wooden surface of the door.  He was outside.  In the hallway.  Out of the room.  The room that had been his home for days.  The room that had been his hiding place and now the cruel truth hit him in the face and his screams strengthened and rose and turned painful and then he saw her.  Saw her from the corner of his eye and he hated her.  God, he hated her.  She was erasing Hotsuma’s existence from his life.  Packing his stuff.  Putting it in labelled boxes.  Getting it ready to give away to charity.

 

And his screams turned onto her.  And he struggled with renewed forces against his captors and pushed them off and grabbed her.  Ignored her startled look, the cry of pain she released due to his bruising grip on her arm.  Ignored the shouts coming from behind him.  The order to release her.  To stop this madness.  But didn’t they understand that he wasn’t the one who was mad here?  They were.  They were.

 

He pulled her out of the room, pulled and shoved her into her partner’s awaiting arms and then slammed the door into their faces.  Locked them out.  Saved his partner’s belonging, his room, and then he slid down to the floor, his back against the strong unyielding barrier that kept unwanted visitors out. 

 

God, how could they?  How could they treat Hotsuma’s life like this?  Erase him out of their existence this quickly?  Hadn’t the blond meant more to them than this?  Didn’t Hotsuma deserve better than this?

 

Shusei’s eyes raked through the room.  Took everything in.  The boxes, half packed, some already closed.  And he got back to his feet and tore them open.  Tore the lids off and pulled Hotsuma’s stuff out.  His clothing, his games, his shaving material, his toothpaste, his alarm clock, his cell phone.

 

The bottle of Hotsuma’s eau de cologne, Shusei paused, his smell.  And he cradled the bottle against his chest as if it were a precious child.  Held the bottle close and sniffed it.  And saw his partner, saw him standing there.  Putting on the eau de cologne, smiling, saying something.  And he reached out.  His fingers touching the illusion and Hotsuma’s image got disrupted and dissolved into small clouds of smoke and evaporated.

 

And he fell to his knees, still clutching the eau de cologne as if it were a lifeline.  The only thing that could still paint such a vivid memory of the one he had once held so near.  But the illusion wasn’t lasting.  Wasn’t permanent.  It couldn’t bring Hotsuma back.  Truly back and the bottle fell from his hands and rolled away from him over the carpet.  And it spilled and the smell was too overpowering and not enough and he frantically reached for the small bottle.  Wanted to preserve what was left, but it was gone.  All gone and he had failed Hotsuma once again.  Let him die once again.

 

Shusei’s fingers shook.  Shook, hovering over the empty bottle.  It was too late.  Too late. But not really.  The bottle still smelled.  Still smelled of him and Shusei collected the item again and hugged it and then placed it back on the ground beside him.  And he reached out again and grabbed his partner’s clothes.  Grabbed and bunched them together and hugged them. 

 

And then he pulled a box towards him and started stuffing Hotsuma’s belongings in there.  Not to give away; but to keep.  His box.  His treasure chest.  Clothes, empty eau de cologne bottle, games … everything that had defined his partner.  He wouldn’t let it go.  Wouldn’t let them take it away from him.  It was his.  His alone.  A stranger had no right to it.  A stranger had no right to his heart. 

 

And he stuffed and piled and the box tore, spilling its content and he cursed and swore.  Ugly words that would have made his partner proud, but it didn’t matter anymore cause the blond was gone.  Had left him.  No more smiles, no more teasing, no more soft caresses, no more being alive … Truly alive.  Not this mockery.  This cruel faith.

 

He grabbed a larger box, repeated the process.  Tried to stuff his partner’s life in one box.  One box for him to keep and this box also failed him.  They all did.  Just like his friend.  Just like Hotsuma had done. 

 

And he hated him.  He hated him for having left him behind.  Hated him for having cursed him to this life.  Hated him for his cowardness.  For forcing this life on him.  Forcing him to be the one having to go on without the other.

 

And God it hurt and the pain crippled him.  Pierced his heart.  Suffocated him.  Made the room seem too small.  It was all consuming.  Hotsuma had him too tightly in his grip.  His partner made him fight a losing battle, a battle with no hope for the next day. 

 

And God he couldn’t do this.  Couldn’t go on.  If only there was hope.  If only there was still a chance.  He’d gladly let go off his pride then.  Fall to his knees and beg shamelessly, but what was there left to beg for?  Nothing … Nothing at all.  Hotsuma was gone.  Gone for good.

 

The door opened.  Soft footfall.  A witness to his pain, his loss. 

 

Shusei looked up, wondering why the person looked blurry, but did that matter?  Did anything still matter?

 

“It won’t fit,” Shusei said simply, sitting between items and clothing that were spilling out of a torn box.  A mess.  Just as his life now was.

 

The End

                       


End file.
